


Of Secrets and Sandwiches

by Diary



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Disturbing Themes, Gay Kurt Wagner, Gay Male Character, Gen, Harm to Animals, Late Night Conversations, POV Male Character, POV Nonhuman, POV Toad (X-Men), Self-Harm, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposted under a different title. Toad and Kurt help a trapped bobcat, and Toad learns something about Kurt. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Secrets and Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own X-Men Evolution.

After it’s been established the person who shook him awake isn’t a serial killer, Toad sarcastically inquires, “And your objection to knocking?”

Fuzzy shifts. “Er, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to deal with the others.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Toad mutters. He hops into a crouching position. “What’s goin’ on, dawg?”

“There’s a bear trap,” Fuzzy starts. He rubs his hand behind his neck. “I don’t know why. But there’s a wildcat, or at least, it has wildcat in it. It’s tame, let me pet it.”

“Mind making some sense, Blue?”

“The wildcat is trapped. In terrible pain, and I remember you said that you used to be able to help cats and dogs with minimal damage?”

“Stay here,” Toad orders.

He sneaks out, gets the necessary supplies, and comes back. After putting on his beanie, digging his pocketknife out of his shoe, and rolling his eyes at Fuzzy’s reaction, he says, “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have that there at school, do you?”

…

Once they arrive, he answers, “Ain’t never used it against anyone, have I? Aint’ ever will, either.”

“Then, why do you have it?”

“’Cause,” he answers.

He’s not going to tell Kurt Wagner about the time he was once stuck in a chest when a fire tore through the house. He’d come out okay- he’d had trouble breathing for a month or two and his dreams were even more unpleasant than usual, but he hadn’t been burnt.

Years later, the first time he was locked in his locker, he knew the second time a fire came through, he’d be dead.

A loud, animal cry helps them find the cat.

“Ya stupid, dawg? She has bobcat in her, not wildcat.”

“How am I supposed to know the difference,” Fuzzy protests. He catches the flashlight Toad tosses him. “How do you?”

Kneeling down, Toad makes eye contact and slowly holds his hand out. She butts it with her head and makes a piteous sound when she moves.

When he digs his pocketknife out, she shrinks back as far as she can.

Keeping his eye locked on hers, he softly orders, “Hey, watch me.”

Then, he pauses and looks back. “Not you, Fuzzy. Don’t ya dare scare her further.”

Carefully, he makes a thin cut on his arm and ignores Fuzzy’s indrawn breath and the erratic swinging of the flashlight. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Fuzzy almost take a step forward but stop himself. “See,” he says, “it hurts some, ain’t lying, but it won’t for long, promise. You’ll be fine.”

Closing her eyes, she stands perfectly still.

“How-” Fuzzy doesn’t finish.

“Crossbreed, dawg,” Toad answers. He sets to work. “Black and white, other different skin colours mixing, mutants, all that, it equals smarts. Or sometimes, just a sense. Cain’t say for sure how much she understands, but I’m telling the truth, want to help her, and she knows those things, sees ‘em, senses ‘em, whatever.”

“Oh,” is the soft reply.

He gets the trap dismantled, and she sways. He pets her and gets her to lie down. “Shh, sweetheart.” Taking out the rubbing alcohol, he carefully pours some over his cut and forces himself to not repress his wince. “Hurts,” he tells her, “but it’ll help.”

She stays motionless.

A few seconds after the rubbing alcohol makes contact with her bloody leg, she lets out a howl and passes out.

Behind him, Fuzzy is muttering in German. Toad wouldn’t be surprised if it were a prayer.

“Yo, Nightcrawler,” he says. “Now’s when I most need the light.”

After rubbing his hands thoroughly with the rubbing alcohol, he cleans the wounds and bandages her. “Know any zoos or preserve things ‘round here?”

“You- you helped her,” Fuzzy says in a tone of voice it takes a moment for Toad to recognise. “You made it look so easy,” he continues.

Through the darkness and vague light, Toad can make out the look on Wagner’s face.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I’m great, dawg, ain’t ya ever been listenin’? Now, zoo or preserve?”

“You were amazing,” Fuzzy insists.

“’Course I was. Think this is my first rodeo? Told ya before, I was good at it. Did it without anyone holding a flashlight, too.”

“What’s the plan, then? Why a zoo or animal reservation?”

“Best to sneak her into one of them than trying to deal with a vet office, ‘specially since they’re more likely to have anti-mutant alarms. Ain’t make much sense; if that was the type of trouble I wanted to cause, I’d go for a zoo, not some small animal hospital.”

“We can’t-”

“No, Fuzzy,” he interrupts. “We cain’t keep her. Dang, dawg, which of us is ‘posed to be the smart, responsible one? She’s bobcat, she’s been badly hurt, and just cause she’s tame don’t mean she’d do okay at either of ours. Probably wander in the danger room at yours and get caught in one of Wanda’s fits at mine.”

“Right,” Kurt (no, don’t go there, he tells himself; fuzzy, blue, dawg, even Nightcrawler and Wagner, but never Kurt) says with a sigh. “You do have a point.”

 …

By the time they find a place and get her in, it’s near morning.

“Um,” Fuzzy says. “Thank-”

“Did it for her,” he immediately declares. He gives her one last pat, makes absolutely sure he has the zoo’s name in his phone, and stands up. “Take me back, Fuzzy.”

…

Once they’re back in his room, he starts to change.

“I think I might be gay.”

“Er,” Toad says.

He’s acutely aware he’s shirtless and has his hands on his pants.

Just what I need, he thinks, to be accused of hitting on someone the one time I actually wasn’t.

“You haven’t asked why I was out so late, so far away from the institute. I just thought that porting to somewhere and trying to find my way back might- I don’t know, help,” Kurt continues.

Rolling his eyes, he resumes changing. “Didn’t ask ‘cause I don’t care. Don’t care ‘bout that, either.”

“Oh. Um, thank you?”

Shaking his head, Toad says, “Just another thing. Be ashamed of being mutant, wearing glasses, black, crossbreed, whatever. Way I see it, people who legit hurt others, ‘specially kids, they have cause. Everyone else, they can either buy into it or tell the world to screw itself. But it ain’t my place ta say how you should handle it.”

“I wish it was that simple for me.”

“Ain’t a counsellor, dawg. Find another animal, come and get me. Otherwise, it’s best we stick ta being enemies who occasionally steal half of each other’s sandwiches.”

“Right. Thank you.”

Then, Kurt’s gone.

Sighing, Toad goes down to breakfast.

He ends up against the wall courtesy of Wanda, steals ten bucks from Lance’s wallet, makes Freddy laugh, and tries to defend his toast from Pietro. He hops to school because Lance is using the jeep to pick up Shadowcat.

He resolves to avoid Nightcralwer as much as he can, even though, naturally, today is sausage-and-apples sandwich day, and he’s usually able to swipe the whole sandwich and force Kurt to go after his pathetic bologna sandwich.

Gloom settles over him as he realises, even if does succeed in avoiding Nightcrawler, there’s still a good chance he’ll end up target practise for holding a secret he never wanted to know in the first place.


End file.
